


Peccable

by wordhouse



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: M/M, PWP, Sexual Content, Suit Porn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2015-04-14
Packaged: 2018-03-22 20:23:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3742441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wordhouse/pseuds/wordhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sonny likes to make a mess. Barba likes to watch.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Peccable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blithesea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blithesea/gifts).



Barba hadn’t taken off his suit, not even his jacket. (Would he ever feel normal calling Barba by his first name? Not yet, not even in his head.) All the Assistant District Attorney had to do after pulling out of him, making him ache even more, was casually clean himself off, do up his fly, and straighten his suspenders. As impeccable as ever.

Sonny exhaled and let his legs drop and stretched on his back. He knew that Barba was watching him, because Barba liked to watch him, liked to watch him take off his clothes, watch him lick his fingers, watch him jerk off. With a smile, he reached out his hand and stroked the so-fine Italian suit, walked his fingers up the lapel, and snagged his prize right out from under Barba’s nose. A little blue and white flag of silk. So small it couldn’t even be called a napkin or handkerchief. Just a square. But he still used it to wipe the jizz off his stomach and chest.

“No!” Barba snapped. His hand flew out to stop Sonny, only a second too late. “Fucker. That cost more than my tie. That cost more than your suit.”

“Yeah?” Sonny sat up and folded the damp square back into shape, the one that reminded him of a paper airplane.

“Don’t.” Barba’s expression was premeditative.

“Something to remember me by.” Sonny carefully tucked the pocket square back in his pocket while Barba plotted his justifiable homicide. “Because I’ll be thinking of you every time I move. And probably getting a boner.” He patted Barba’s chest, his breast pocket. “If it’s still there tonight, I’ll let you fuck me to death the way you want to right now.” 

Barba’s dark eyes darkened even more. Sonny’s breath caught in his throat as the suited man suddenly loomed over him. He might just die now. Long fingers swept through his hair, then twisted into a knot and jerked his head back. Sonny barely managed to bite back a moan. He wanted that punishing kiss so much, he could taste it, feel the heat, oh, the tongue-lashing, except it never came. Barba looked down at him with hooded eyes. Still watching him.

“I have a meeting with Judge Koh.” He released him. The hand in his hair unfurled slowly with just a tug or two. “And you have to get back to the precinct.”

“Yeah.” Sergeant Benson was going to think he had gone to lunch _and_ dinner. Sonny dressed quickly, and Barba watched. At the door, Sonny straightened the four points on his pocket square, then raked a hand through Barba’s hair.

“Stop it,” Barba huffed. Sonny returned the scowl and got back an indulgent, I-will-deal-with-you-later side-eye. Or maybe it was his this-means-war side-eye. Or the translation of the slight squint might be _I will wear this filthy cumrag all day and then gag you with it and leave you tied to the bed while I order take out and watch the news and Cash Cab._ Sonny retorted with a brandishing of his eyebrows. Bring it on, all of it.

Barba exhaled through his nose, and Sonny saw a twitch of a smile at the corner of his mouth. He was still too perfect, so he flicked a few more strands out of place along his hairline. He couldn’t help himself, he liked Barba best with some sin on him. 


End file.
